


Resolve

by clausbook



Category: Mother 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clausbook/pseuds/clausbook
Summary: When the commander wakes up, he finds the final needle pulled and all of his men gone. As he searches for the answers to his many questions, his resolve is tested when he must face the boy who undid his entire life.
Relationships: Claus & Lucas (Mother 3)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Resolve

**Author's Note:**

> this was a fic i wrote years ago that i figured i might as well yeet onto here. content warning for discussion about death and suicidal ideation.

He wakes up.

His vision is blurred and his body is stiff. There is no pain, but he is so disoriented that he might as well be. He slowly arises and remembers.

The needle!

His heart races as he quickly gathers his bearings. He recognizes his surroundings as the cave which encompassed the last needle, but his heart drops when he finds it missing. Instead, there was a puncture into the Earth with endless violet smoke spilling out.

The needle has been pulled, but by who?

He rubs his head (which is strangely helmetless, when did he ever take it off?) and tries to remember what had transpired before the needle.

_He was approaching the needle. He was so close, so, so close to fulfilling his master’s wishes, but he stopped. Footsteps came from behind, likely the boy and his allies. He attempted to strike them down, and succeeded in felling all but one._

_The boy is exceptionally stubborn._

_They fought, or rather, he fought and the boy guarded. This behavior is strange, but it is irrelevant. The boy’s focus on survival proved to be extraordinarily irritating._

_A voice was heard, and then a shout. A man guarded the boy, his son, and fell. The boy was visibly distraught, on the verge of collapse._

_He saw despair in Lucas’s eyes._

_The voice grew louder and he became desperate. Unknown feelings, emotions that were once sealed away, began to spring to life. He hated it, he hates this, he wants it all to end, to stop-_

He decides it’s best to not dwell further on it. Going any further could risk a short-circuit.

The commander concludes that it is best to report to his master immediately. With the needle pulled, regardless of who did it, his mission is now moot. There was never a plan for what happens afterwards, and it is concerning. It doesn’t help that his programming is beginning to malfunction again. Now is not the time for him to be confined and debugged. The commander retrieves his helmet and puts it on. He then sets out.

It does not take long for him to find his master. He recognizes his new chambers as the ‘Absolutely Safe Capsule’, a containment unit made specifically for absolute survival. His master had clearly expected the worst, and judging from what he has seen, the commander can’t tell if his judgment is correct.

He approaches the capsule cautiously. His master was always unpredictable, but now, the commander finds himself afraid. He scolds himself for daring to feel such a way, let alone at all, and especially towards his master. It doesn’t matter what his master has to say, he will follow through with it.

“Master,” he states. There is a singular window into the capsule, but he can hardly see. He can only hope sound can pass through as well.

But there is silence.

“Master,” he repeats, “I do not wish to disturb you, but…” he trails off. Why is he at a sudden loss of words? Why is he hesitant? Why does his heart feel as if it’s sinking, or-

He shakes off his musings. Not now. Focus.

“But as I’m sure you’ve noticed, the last needle has been pulled.”

There is still silence.

“I cannot recollect who is responsible, but if it was the boy, then it is imperative that a search party is gathered immediately.”

More silence.

“Having a child running around with so much power is dangerous.”

Silence.

“Very. Dangerous.”

There is a muffled voice. The capsule is doing a great job of blocking sound, and it is frustrating. The commander listens closely, in an attempt to discern what his master could be saying.

He hears laughter. Laughter loud enough to be heard outside of the capsule. It is erratic and without cause. It is unsettling.

“Master?” the commander inquires.

The laughter does not cease. The commander is no expert in humor, but he cannot find what his master finds so humorous.

“I… apologize, your highness,” the commander bows, “I have clearly come at the wrong time. I will see to the troops and determine our next course of action.”

His master continues laughing. The commander leaves him, bewildered.

His master was often irrational and emotionally-driven, and as one who was programmed to be anything but, he could hardly ever understand his master’s actions. Instead, he elected to follow his orders blindly, as was his duty.

But laughter is not an order, so the commander leaves the cave of the future without any aim or direction.

* * *

He arrives at the base, and it is quiet. It is a stark contrast to the consistent, wild noise that the army produced. In panic, in happiness, in rage, there was never a moment of silence.

The commander is disturbed.

He hates this. He hates how he’s starting to _feel_ things again. Whenever he became irrational in the past, he always took it upon himself to go to Andonuts to have himself debugged. Once he was debugged, his full potential would be restored, and he would resume his role as the proper commander of the Pigmasks.

It’s a terrible weakness of his. He knows that his human lineage is to blame.

As he treads through the empty halls with caution, he seeks out a recharging station. Although he does not sustain any injuries, he is still weary, and the long travel between the remnants of New Pork and the Pigmask base had only furthered his fatigue.

Ah ha! Finally! Just what he needs!

The commander rushes towards the station; he’s never been more grateful to see one before. He steps in and lets the machine do its job.

There. That feels _so_ much better.

He steps out and his body feels fresh. However, his mind was stilled clouded with thoughts, concerns, petty anxiety, and fear. To put his mind at ease, he decides to further examine the base while trying his best to address the many questions he has:

‘ _Where are all the Pigmasks?’_

‘ _Why is the base abandoned?’_

‘ _What happened to New Pork City?’_

‘ _What happened after the needle was pulled?’_

The needle.

The needle!

Right!

‘ _Who pulled the needle?’_

‘ _Was it Lucas?’_

‘ _Lucas… that’s his name. How do I know his name?’_

‘ _Why wouldn’t he attack me?’_

‘ _Who was that voice? Who-‘_

The commander’s head hurts. This isn’t helping his well-being at all. But these are important questions that must be addressed. He attempts to decipher them.

‘ _It is best to assume that Lucas pulled the needle. Had I pulled it, wouldn’t I feel something… more?’_

He recollects pulling the other needles, and the great surge of power he felt when he pulled each one. Considering how weak he currently feels psionically, he most likely did not pull the last needle. But that means-

‘ _He has control of the dragon! And if he's in control of it, then that means the destruction of New Pork… the absence of my men-‘_

The commander is conflicted. Assuming he’s correct, this could potentially mean that Lucas had undone not only the progress of the Pigmasks, but the Pigmasks themselves. That would leave him without an army to command, without a cause to follow, and his master… his master…

‘ _He’s completely lost it.’_

The conclusion hurts. He hopes dearly that it isn’t true, that there is some other explanation, but if there isn’t-

‘… _What do I do?’_

The commander stays put. He looks around him, as if the pristine, abandoned walls of the base held his answer.

What is he supposed to do? If he truly is the last Pigmask-

Wait a second…

‘… _Why would Lucas spare me?’_

It just occurred to him. Perhaps this should have been his first question, and yet, his own personal state of being is so low of a priority, that he didn’t even question this until now. By all means, he shouldn’t be alive.

‘ _How am I alive?’_

Then he remembers.

The voice.

‘ _Claus… stop this…’_

_Lucas is in disbelief._

‘ _You’re not Porky’s robot… you’re our son.’_

_Lucas looks to be on the verge of tears._

_The commander feels awful. He feels regret. He feels horrible._

‘ _You and Lucas are brothers!’_

Brothers. That explains a lot.

Their shared PSI, how they can both pull the needles…

That’s why Lucas wouldn’t attack him. They’re brothers. Lucas cares about him.

‘… _Then why don’t I remember?’_

It tears at him, claws at his heart, and threatens to destroy what remains of his resolve. It pains him to know that he was never just a machine built to lead and follow. It hurts to know that there were people who had known him before he was built- or rather, they knew the human he was before his reconstruction.

!!!

This! Is why! He hates! Emotions! They cloud your judgment, they hinder your progress and make you feel so bad, so horrible, so awful! With emotions come doubt, come anxiety, come fear, come pain and regret and-

He wants to break down, throw a fit and cry and scream because he hurt his brother, his brother, his twin brother that he can’t even remember who was so hurt and scared and alone-

…

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t move.

He can’t.

Doing so, acting upon such irrational emotions would accomplish nothing and further destroy him.

His resolve is all he has left, and knowing this, there is only one thing he can do.

He must seek out Lucas.

* * *

Lucas is at a grave. He holds a batch of sunflowers that he gently places next to the tombstone. He stares at it longingly.

“Thank you,” his voice cracks, “thank you for being there for me.”

He is quiet.

“For us.”

The battle haunts him. Knowing that the one behind the mask was Claus, unwilling and dead, tore at him the more he thought about it.

“How is he? You know, up there. With you,” he pauses, as if expecting an answer that would never come.

But there is silence.

“E-everything’s okay here.”

Lucas begins shaking.

“And yet…”

Lucas feels an immense amount of regret within him. Had he known what the pulling the final needle would truly entail, he doesn’t know if he would have done it. But had he not, there would still be Pigmasks prancing about with their fancy war machines and brain washers and animal abusers-

Lucas wonders if it was really for the best.

“The Pigmasks are gone. A-at first I was happy… but then I remembered.”

Lucas gulps.

“Those were real people. Villagers, all of them, dead. Because of me,” Lucas chokes.

“I killed them, mom. I’m so sorry. I’m so _so_ sorry…”

Several lives were in his hands, and he failed them. All of them. The only people who survived were the ones he cared for, but those who donned the mask were eviscerated. What right does he have, to determine who gets to live? Who gets to die? Who gets to live knowing that the only reason they survived was because they lived under the good grace of some selfish, spoiled brat?

Porky must _love_ this.

Lucas loathes everything about this.

He considers it, he always had, but the urge has never been any stronger than now. He knows he can never redeem himself, and he wonders if, by any chance, his mother would welcome him back.

He already knows Claus wouldn’t.

There are footsteps approaching him. Lucas tries to regain himself, but he remains a mess. He refuses to look away from the tombstone in front of him for even a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he says, to both the tomb and the one behind him, “I know whining like some kinda baby won’t solve anything but…”

Lucas whispers.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Silence.

Heavy silence.

“If it is any consolation, neither do I.”

Lucas’s heart skips a beat.

That voice?

He forgets everything he just said.

Could it be?!

Lucas turns around and sees the commander.

…

They stare at each other for what seems like ages. There is a heavy silence that hangs in the air. Lucas is almost under the impression that he’s dead as well.

“…Claus?” Lucas croaks.

The commander does not respond.

“I-is that you? … Are you real?”

The commander bites his lip before saying, “Supposedly.”

Lucas slowly gets up. His legs are numb from kneeling for so long, and he nearly stumbles.

The commander lends out a metal hand. Lucas takes it.

“It’s you…” tears begin to fall, “I-It’s really you!”

The commander does not respond. He doesn’t know _how_ to respond. He knew Lucas cared for him, but he has no idea how to care about him.

“I’m here,” he starts, “for answers.”

Lucas doesn’t care about that.

“For some clarification, if you will.”

If he can’t muster the will to care, why try? It’s not his duty to care about Lucas.

Although in all fairness, the commander lacks any duty now.

He hates being aimless.

“Did you pull the needle?”

Lucas is put off. Why is Claus acting so… robotic? He would have expected something more after their farewell. Laughter, tears, perhaps even anger towards what Lucas did to all of their neighbors? A worry creeps within him. Could Claus still be brainwashed? But why?! He was certain that Claus had died as himself, as the person he was three years ago, he doesn’t understand this-

The commander notices that Lucas is lost in thought. He didn’t consider a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question to cause Lucas to think this much. Perhaps his mind trailed towards somewhere else? He repeats himself, sternly, “Did you pull the needle?”

Lucas snaps out of his thoughts and looks back at Claus. Right. The needle.

“Y-yes. I… did,” Lucas lets go of Claus, realizing that they were now in quite an awkward position, “I’m… sorry.”

Why is he apologizing? Didn’t he want the dragon’s power?

The commander discards those questions. They are irrelevant.

“I… see,” the commander hesitates, “Then I believe some clarification is needed. It is difficult to discern what has transpired since the pulling of the needle and my awakening, so I would appreciate some explanation.”

Wait, hang on. They’re enemies! Why would he ever give him such valuable info-

“I don’t know,” Lucas asserts. He has so many questions too, mainly about Claus, but he figures that Claus deserves to know. Everyone does.

“Look, I-I’m about as confused as you are, really. I-I don’t know exactly what happened either, s-so,” he trails off. He really, really doesn’t want Claus to hate him, but he knows it’s inevitable.

“Then try your best. Anything is better than nothing.”

Lucas shifts in place and squeezes his arm.

“O-okay… well, this is all I can remember.”

_He recollects the immense power surge that came from the needle, only followed by a violent earthquake. He couldn’t see past the cave, but he could hear faint squeals, and tried to block them out as best as he could. He didn’t know what was happening, or what could happen, but he tried his best to ignore the screams and ignore the body in front of him and ignore the sinking feeling that persisted within him until there was absolute, never-ending darkness._

…

_He woke up within his house. It is untouched and clean, almost as if lightning had never gone near it. Boney laid by his bed, deep in slumber, as did his father in the bed next to his. Although incredibly confused, he was relieved. He was glad that they were okay._

_There was hope. Even though his mother and Claus weren’t present, he had hope that they could be elsewhere. They were both early risers after all._

_At the very least, he was certain that his friends were alright. Kumatora was too hard-headed to let some little apocalypse stop her, and he had faith that Duster would be alright too, being the epitome of luck (speaking of which, he hoped that the DCMC fared well)._

_Lucas let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding once he reached Tazmily square. There was worry and fear, but mostly confusion. None of the residents looked to be harmed, and surprisingly enough, nearly all of the buildings stood tall and well._

_Wait, the buildings?_

_The technology! It’s gone!_

_Lucas was ecstatic! Did the dragon really do that?! That’s… amazing! Tazmily looked like it did three years, and Lucas couldn’t feel any happier to see it that way._

_He tried to conceal his smile, however. He knew that there were far more people that loved the Pigmask’s technology than those who despised it like him. In fact, he realized that there was a large chance that the villagers would hate all of this. That this new world would be nothing but the arduous work they had to do years ago, work that they had all tried so hard to be free from._

“ _Isaac? Hey, has anyone seen Isaac?”_

_Everyone turned to see Butch. He was frantic._

“ _Isaac? Wasn’t he workin’ with the Pigmasks?”_

“ _Y-yeah, but I haven’t seen hide-nor-hair of him or any of those guys since that… thing!”_

_There were frantic murmurs among the crowd, confusion becoming worry._

“ _N-nobody has seen the Pigmasks?”_

“ _They’re usually all OVER the place!”_

“ _Now that you mention it, what about those weird animals?”_

“ _They’re gone too!”_

_The villagers continued their banter, which escalated from concern over the Pigmasks, to worry that they abandoned them, until finally-_

“ _You all saw what happened, right?!”_

_Everyone’ attention was on Abbot._

“ _The world was ending! There was fire, and the ground was shaking, a-and twisters, and the volc-“_

“ _That’s crazy talk! The world didn’t end!”_

“ _But I saw it too! Giant boulders fell from the sky, one hit a ship!”_

“ _There was an explosion by the Thunder Tower!”_

“ _New Pork City crashed, remember? All of that time I spent gathering my stuff for the move, to waste!”_

_And then there was anger. Anger at whatever caused the destruction of their new home, of all of their conveniences, of their living, of the Pigmasks._

_Lucas’s blood turned cold. He knew that this change wouldn’t end well with the villagers, but he had no idea that it could be_ this _disastrous. He couldn’t care less for the loss of the New Pork, or the loss of technology, but the Pigmasks?_

_Lucas gulped._

_Those were_ real _people._

_People with lives, and love, and family and friends and joy and sorrow and-_

_He wanted to belie_ _ve_ _they were faceless monsters. He really, really wanted to believe that they weren’t human. That they were demons that came and invaded their town, and that their extinction was a good thing._

_But he knew better._

_He saw them transform before him. They were his friends too, before the Pigmasks arrived with their new, corruptive ideologies. He knew that if the bodies were ever found, that he would recognize nearly every face behind the mask._

_And yet, out of all of them, he only spared one._

_And that boy was already dead._

_Lucas sauntered back to his home. He was tired of this. He didn’t want to face the reality of his actions, or face the consequences._

_Nobody knew what Lucas was capable of. Nobody knew that the boy who mourned over his mother for years, who stayed secluded within his house and refused to move on, who wouldn’t touch anything branded by the Pigmasks, was capable of this._

_Nobody could have guessed that crybaby Lucas had the potential to simultaneously ruin and rebuild a new world._

The commander lets this information sink in. He can tell that this haunts Lucas, almost as much as it haunts himself.

But he isn’t mad. He can’t be. The commander doesn’t let his emotions get the better of him. He looks beyond the emotional aspects and analyzes the circumstances as they are. He knows that Lucas never intended to destroy an entire group of people. He knows Lucas didn’t intend to reverse humanity’s progress for the last three years. He knows Lucas didn’t intend to ruin several livelihoods with such a drastic and dramatic change.

…

He knows Lucas didn’t mean to make his existence pointless. He knows Lucas didn’t know that the commander’s only reason for operation relied solely on serving the Pigmasks and his master. He knows that Lucas didn’t realize that his master is slowly deteriorating, and with time, so will he. He knows that Lucas doesn’t know that the commander relied upon technology to survive, to be a functional member of a dead army, to be the rightful servant for a king who is beyond reason at this point.

He knows Lucas only has good intentions.

That doesn’t stop him from becoming livid.

The commander clutches the collar of Lucas’s shirt tightly. Lucas yelps and is nearly lifted off the ground when the commander pulls Lucas towards himself.

“Who gave you the _right_ ,” the commander hisses, “to determine how we’re supposed to live?”

There is dread on Lucas’s face.

“Answer me! Answer me, you _coward_!”

Lucas doesn’t respond. He looks away and resists the urge to cry.

The commander switches his arm to cannon-mode and presses it by the side of Lucas’s head. Lucas doesn’t resist.

His voice is low, “Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?”

Lucas looks elsewhere.

The commander glares at him.

Silence.

“Why did you spare me?”

Lucas looks back at him.

“Why?!”

Lucas shuts his eyes tightly.

There is no response

They are silent and tense.

Lucas expects the worst.

“Why…”

Lucas opens his eyes.

His voice is soft.

“Because I believe in you.”

The commander softens his expression.

“What?”

“I believe… no, I know that you’re more than this,” Lucas looks at him, “You’re more than some kind of tool, or toy, or whatever.”

The commander holds his stance, but is considerably less tense.

“You knew me…”

“I always have,” there is a small smile on his face, “we’ve always known each other, Claus.”

Claus.

That’s his name.

And yet, it feels so foreign.

“I… I do not remember you.”

“That’s okay. You… you don’t have to.”

The commander removes his arm cannon and lets go of Lucas.

He glances at his feet and whispers.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Lucas approaches him.

“You have a home. You… you don’t have to serve the Pigmasks anymore.”

The commander blinks. Was he ever forced to?

“And what do you do at… ‘home’?”

Lucas grins, “Just… live, you know? Wake up, eat some food, tend the farm… that kind of stuff. It’s no military life, but it’ll keep you busy.”

“And that… that’s how I lived before my reconstruction?”

“Yep. That was our life.”

The commander considers this. It feels odd, having his enemy offer him a new life, one without training and construction and servitude-

This is how humans live.

The commander hadn’t ever considered himself human until now, but without the assistance of technology, he knows he will gradually revert to his old ways, whatever they were.

In a world without Pigmasks and needles, perhaps it is for the best he learns to become human.

“I have concluded that residing in this ‘home’ is for the better,” the commander states blankly, “It is for that reason that I offer a truce.”

He holds up his human arm.

“In light that there are no longer any needles to be pulled and that the world’s fate has already been determined, I propose that we end our feud.”

Lucas hesitates.

The commander clarifies.

“I don’t wish to be your enemy any longer.”

And Lucas smiles.

“Neither do I.”

They shake hands. It feels awkward, as one was once so adamant on seeing the other dead, and the other has to treat his own brother like a stranger.

It is odd. But that’s okay.


End file.
